


The Priest and the Warrior

by ScribeFigaro



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeFigaro/pseuds/ScribeFigaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Inuyasha drabbles and other shorts, mostly Miroku/Sango.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

The days were growing shorter, and colder.  Sango was mending her husband’s robes, doing the best she could in the waning daylight.  The tallow lamp beside her gave so little light, but enough wood to bring the fire bright was just not available.  Their home was small, and cozy, but Miroku’s exorcisms brought in only half as much coin as she and him working together, and for now, the care of the twins kept her home.

She lay down her sewing for a moment, slipping her hands into the opposing sleeves of her kosode, sighing softly.  It was difficult, she admitted.  Marriage was a battle, not between her and Miroku, but between her and herself.  The Sango that was a warror and the Sango that was a wife,and the Sango that was a mother.  So difficult to reconcile all these duties.  She should be out on the battlefield, slaying some demon, and yet she was here, fixing her husband’s clothing, and looking over her children.  It was a temporary situation, for certain; she could not be pregnant for the rest of her life – despite what Miroku’s plans might be.

Her hands warm, she returned to her duties.  Silly and small though they might be, they were a step toward her future life with him.  Soon enough she’d bear another child, and recover enough to return to her duties as a demon slayer.


	2. Balance

Miroku crossed his arms, staring at the structure before him with annoyance.

“Just what exactly is this supposed to do?”

Kagome smiled.

“It’s a see-saw, Miroku!  Your kids will love it! Watch!”

The log that Kagome had Inuyasha pound into the ground soon received a long plank from one of the unconstructed houses nearby.  With this board balanced on the center of the log, both ends teetered back and forth.

“Eme, Kimi, come here!” Kagome shouted in excitement.

The twins came forth from behind Mirkou’s robes; their fear of this odd construction no match for their love of their strange aunt.  She and Inuyasha took care to pick them up and place them simultaneously on either end of the board.

“Here we go!” Kagome said.

Kagome pushed slightly on Eme’s end, and the see-saw moved up and down, and his daughters cried out in joy.

Miroku sighed.  So simple.  A lever and fulcrum.  How did that not occur to him before?

Still, the smiles and laughter of his daughters were genuine, and how could he fault Kagome for her bringing them joy?


	3. Home

Thunder and rain pounded their home, and Miroku slipped a hand around Sango, dead asleep, who murmured softly at his touch.

Miroku did not build the house that he and Sango made their home; the structure had stood for many years before, unoccupied and ravaged by weather.  The load-bearing members were sound but the wood paneling of the walls  were dry and cracked and the thatch roof suspect.  He had always kept the coin of the group, and with Kagome gone he set aside her portion along with Inuyasha, who left it with Miroku for safekeeping.  The portion that was his and Sango’s he used to purchase this aging farmhouse from the grandson of the previous owner.  The initial offer was for free - they had, after all, destroyed an ancient evil that came within moments of rendering the entire country to ashes - but Miroku successfully negotiated to some 60% of market value, plus free exorcisms for life.

His marriage with Sango took place some ten days after the victory over Naraku, and was a simple affair - Kagome still being gone, it seemed inappropriate to celebrate too openly.  But their quiet ceremony was quickly preempted by the villagers, anxious for some open display of celebration over the darkness that had surrounded their village and their lives for so many years.  Miroku, Sango, and Inuyasha all sat in the place of honor, but the empty cushion beside Inuyasha spoke volumes, and the tray before it with food that would never be eaten spoke even louder.  The celebration of the union of Miroku and Sango could not possibly be separated from the celebration and mourning of the life of Kagome.  Inuyasha had promised that Kagome was safe, sent away to her own time, but that was no different than saying she was in heaven.  The wedding of Miroku and Sango was also the funeral of Kagome.  There was no other way.

-x-

Months had passed since their wedding night, the night Sango was so surprisingly shy, the night they had spoken of things unutterable before, revealed themselves fully, body and soul, and surrendered each of their lives into a union that they knew was greater than either of them separate.  

This night, the storm raged outside, and Miroku felt great comfort.  The outer walls he had replaced and sealed with oakum and tar held fast against the torrential rains, and the thatch roof which he had climbed and repaired let in not a drop of water.  

Beneath the blankets of their sleeping pallet, he pressed more tightly against Sango, eliciting soft murmurs of annoyance and acceptance, and a quiet moan of satisfaction as his hand worked his way into her loose sleeping robe and splayed upon her naked belly.  It was still subtle, but for twelve weeks or so nothing in life could possibly distract him from studying Sango’s body in every aspect, and he knew the slight curve of her belly meant that she bore him something new and beautiful and absolutely perfect.  She had of course told him as soon as her cycle ceased, but the evidence of her body changing to accommodate this new life thrilled him in ways he never could have imagined.

She still slept, and he felt himself on the verge of tears, wanting to tell her and yet realizing she needed her sleep.  He turned to the roof above, poorly done thatch but good enough, keeping the rain away from their bed, away from his wife, away from his child.

“Good enough,” he said, spitting the words through his teeth like poison.

_By what right can my work be “Good enough?”  My God, please forgive me.  This is what I can do.  The best I can do.  My wife, my love, my Sango, sleeps beside me.  She sleeps and creates something magnificent.  She surrenders her body and her soul to her task, to bear a child that crystallizes the love between us.  She alone makes us a family.  And what can I do?  I can repair a thatch roof, and replace some wood panels, to keep the rain off her as she performs her miracles.  My God, forgive me, but if all I can do is provide her shelter, then I will spend every waking breath giving her that shelter._

Miroku wiped his face, the tears coming freely now, but less of fear and more of pure catharsis. Indeed, this was his purpose now.  His love for her had been the Kazaana that consumed the poison meant for her, which he gladly took into his blood and drew perilously close to his heart.  That time had passed; he must now live for her.  For their children.  God, that was so much harder.  He had hoped so much for this future but never really prepared for it.  To destroy Naraku, and live a life beyond him - he could only barely afford to hope for such a thing.

Another thunderclap, another soft growl from Kilala beside them, and Sango still slept, and Miroku kissed her just above her eyebrow, and whispered into her ear the words every husband says to every wife they truly and utterly love.

“I love you and I like you and you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

The wind shifted, and the rain struck some other corner of the roof, and Miroku tensed, and listened, and waited for the sound of water spilling through some hole onto their floor, was relieved when that sound did not come.

He smiled softly, and relaxed, and gripped her hand, which she returned, though still asleep.

It was the best he could do, fixing this foundation, this floor, these walls and this roof, but it was his, and it kept his wife dry, and his unborn child dry, and as a husband, as a man, he found no greater satisfaction, not greater success, no greater victory, in all his life.


	4. Wedding Night #6

Sango did not know how the wedding night was supposed to go, but she knew that it would involve seeing a side of Miroku she had never seen before.  She worried about what he might ask for, and whether or not she would be satisfactory to him.  But she knew for certain her promise to bear his children would be put to the test, and she would be an enthusiastic participant in that particular act.

Point in fact, that did not happen.  The wedding night was him kissing her, and convincing her that every thought in her head was worth acting out.  She undressed her husband, and he granted her a sly smile as she became comfortable with his nakedness, with the way his skin felt against her fingers and her cheeks.  And she asked him to undress her, and he convinced her that she was a goddess, and he worshiped her with his hands and his mouth.  And as they lay naked on their bed, looking at each other’s eyes, readying themselves for the act that might very well make her pregnant, she began to talk about her family, her mother and her father and Kohaku, and how her life was before Naraku.  Things she had never told anyone before, not even Kagome.  And when she realized she was spoiling the mood, she began to cry, and Miroku pulled her close, and kissed her gently on the temple.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where any of that came from, I just … somehow I needed to …” she whispered.

“I’ve noticed something very strange about you, Sango,” he said.  “Something inexplicable.  Every day of my life I find myself loving you more than the day before.  So I was just thinking this morning how much I utterly adore you, and I felt convinced that I could not love you any more than that.  But I was again wrong; the absolutely burning desire I felt mere hours before is like lukewarm water compared to what I feel for you now.  I want you Sango, all of you, and my greatest wish was for you to give me absolutely everything, and that is what you have done, as if you could read my mind.”

“Miroku,” she said.  She bit her lip.  “I’m sorry, I’m ready, I promise I am.  Thank you for being so patient. Please let me do my duty as your wife.”

“Yes, of course.  I desire that very much, and I think we will both enjoy it greatly,” he said.

He brushed her cheek with her thumb.

“But first, Sango, will you tell me everything you can remember about your village?  I’d very much like to know your favorite joke when you were a child, and how you got along with whoever trained you in demon extermination, and the first boy you kissed, and the first boy you punched.”

The sun was just beginning to rise as she finished dictating the entire history of the village and her family into Miroku’s chest.


End file.
